


This Dance They Do

by sharp2799



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Drama, Episode Tag, F/M, Het, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharp2799/pseuds/sharp2799
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to "Role Model.” (season 1)</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Dance They Do

**Author's Note:**

> My beta was magsyb at LJ (who had to put up with a lot)! Many, many thanks for your hard work.
> 
> This was written as a prompt from blueheronz at LJ who said: “I, for one, would love to see what you'd do with the resignation scene in ‘Role Model.’ I'd love to see it extended and altered ending in romance/smut.”

House knows the steps. Step forward one step and move three steps back. The limp makes it awkward but he’s pretty adept at it now.

Step one forward:

_“I’m not gonna crush you.”_

That was a big step. Then came the familiar three steps back. He walked the hell out of there and into the exam room as fast as he could.

A small side-step came into the dance shortly after that:

He stared at Wilson. _“Is that why you haven’t put the moves on her?”_

_“Who says I haven’t put the moves on her?”_

And dammit—Wilson read him all too well in that instant.

_“Oh—boy. You’re in trouble.”_

No kidding. Time to see if the dance can be cut short. It’s safer. Easier. He walked into the lab where she was working.

_“What’s up?”_

_“You like me. Why?”_

_“That’s kind of a sad question.”_

_“I’m just trying to figure out what makes you tick. I am not warm and fuzzy and you are basically a stuffed animal made by grandma.”_

_“I don’t think that’s why you’re asking. I think this is because of the speech.”_

_“God, don’t try and pick me apart.”_

_“Then why are you asking? What do you want to hear?”_

She approached, looked him right in the eye and he couldn’t meet that direct gaze for more than a second. It was too intimate and focused and he was afraid. He walked away.

*~*~*

And that night, after the speech that left him feeling high (with the resultant crash later), House sat at his piano, ignoring the messages on his answering machine, playing a few random bars, running his hands across the keys. He wanted to ignore the knock at his door but knew _someone_ was justified in coming to yell at him. He was betting it would be Wilson or Cuddy. He looked through the peephole and his jaw tightened along with his stomach. This was an unexpected step. He opened the door and let Cameron in.

House walked back to the piano and faced her. “I’m sorry. I should’ve taken a couple extra Vicodin and just held my nose.”

“I’m guessing you did take a couple extra Vicodin.”

“True.” A smile twitched at his mouth.

Cameron took a deep breath. “You don’t need to worry about firing anyone. I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

She didn’t immediately answer and he walked toward her. It was easy to step closer when it was a probe, a puzzle, a need for information. “Is this another noble, self-sacrificing gesture? Are you trying to protect Foreman?”

“No.”

“So this is just ‘don’t fire me, I quit’?”

“I’m protecting myself.” House stared into her eyes and she met his gaze without flinching. “You asked me why I like you. You’re abrasive and rude.”

House looked away but kept his feet in place. He knew these steps, and waited for the conclusion, the return to sitting on the sides.

Cameron continued softly, “But I figured, everything you do, you do it to help people. But I was wrong. You do it because it’s right.”

She held out her hand for him to shake but House turned his head away, his body language folding into the curve of rejection. Quitting was unexpected but leaving him was not. The pain was sharp but he could hold it back until she left.

Her hand dropped. “There are only two ways I can deal with things. One is in my control. That’s to leave. Good-bye, House.” Cameron turned and walked to the door.

He watched the steps she took, counting more than three, before following and putting his hand over hers on the doorknob. House stood close and inhaled the scent of her shampoo. She stood frozen, feeling his proximity, her breath caught in her throat.

“House?” she finally whispered.

His hand gripped hers and slid it off the doorknob, feeling as if he was spinning her into a new and complicated set of steps. Cameron turned to face him, her eyes questioning and hopeful.

House shook his head. “Do you have to look so damned expectant?”

Immediately, Cameron composed her face into something neutral. “Is that better?”

He shook his head, a smirk deep in his eyes, hiding the fear. “No.”

“Then live with it, House. This is who I am. Why is that so difficult?”

He exhaled. “You’re still—”

“I heard you the first time, I’m a stuffed animal made by grandma. You know what happens to stuffed animals?”

“They get donated to charity?”

Cameron smiled. “No. They get taken to bed.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “I—that’s a pretty big jump or do you often do that after quitting?”

“You’re not my boss anymore. I’m free to do what I want. And so are you. Take me to bed, House. What have you got to lose?”

_Everything_ , he wanted to say. Because he didn’t know these steps of the dance.

Her fingers intertwined with his and her other hand crept up to rest at his waist.

House looked at her steely determination that was twisted with nervousness, and he bent down and kissed her. It was soft and tentative and his gut clenched as his arm wrapped around her waist as he felt the fine, strong bones of her frame sink into his. He slid his tongue into her mouth and it was hot and wet and unbearably sweet. He hardened so fast he thought he might come then and there as she suddenly sucked on his tongue. The fear danced and receded as he pressed her tight against him.

But how far could they go before she turned and ran? He kneaded her lower back as he pressed her closer so that she’d have no doubt how aroused he was, his cane balancing his weight between her and it. Would she run? Was it her turn to take those three steps back?

Cameron pulled out of his embrace, breathing hard. She pulled the blue sweater she was wearing over her head, dropping it on the floor.

“Are you just gonna leave that there?” he said, not taking his eyes off the sweater.

“Shut up, House.” She reached behind to unhook her bra and his head snapped up and stopped her, trapping her with his eyes. She waited, passive in his space, while he tossed the cane to the chair and slid his hands up her back, pressing the smooth skin firmly, feeling her trembling with arousal and maybe, maybe some of that fear, the fear of not completely knowing the steps between them either. His fingers deftly unhooked her bra and slid the straps down her arms, bringing his hands forward to palm her breasts lightly, enjoying her gasp, her mouth slightly parted, her eyes glazing over with lust.

The bra fell to the floor and he bent and took a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue gently. Then he sucked hard, pinching the other in counterpoint as she sharply inhaled and arched into his touch.

He straightened to gaze into her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Take me to where all stuffed animals go, House.”

“I’ve never fucked one before. Never wanted to.”

She smiled, running the back of her hand against his cheek. His eyes closed involuntarily, feeling her stroke the stubble along his jaw in a move that was full of promises. House opened his eyes and took a step forward, easing her back. Cameron almost stumbled, caught off guard at his movements, but then followed his lead more and more smoothly as the direction became clear.

In the bedroom, House pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the floor, mimicking her. He limped to the other side of the bed and turned his back, kicking off his sneakers and stripping off his pants before sliding under the covers. A faint flush covered his cheeks. She had never seen him naked and she wasn’t paid by the hour. What in hell was he thinking? She was young and beautiful and bright and shouldn’t be here.

He cleared his throat. “Maybe you should—”

“Suck you off? Mmm, love to.” Cameron stood naked by the bed and crawled underneath the blanket, spreading his thighs and placing a delicate kiss on the head of his cock before deep throating him smoothly and unexpectedly.

“Oh, _fuck_.” His head fell back as Cameron sucked and fondled her way to short-circuiting his brain. “Cameron. Cameron, stop. _Stop_.” He put as much command into his voice as he could and was relieved that old habits die hard.

She crawled her way up his body, head poking out from the blanket, face flushed, eyes bright.

“So…how fuzzy are you?” his voice rasped.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

Sweat beaded across his forehead as he fought to keep from fucking her that second. He yanked her farther up and bit lightly at her breasts while one hand slid down between her legs and finger fucked her gently, his fingers becoming slick and wet from her arousal. House watched in fascination as her eyes closed and she rotated her hips and moved on his hand until he slowly pulled them out.

“Fuzzy enough?” she grinned but he could see the need in her eyes and he matched her grin with one of his own. Oh yeah, he knew the steps to this dance.

“Scoot up.”

Smiling, she raised herself up and he pushed her until she sprawled backwards in surprise. He parted her legs and bent to taste, parting the light brown curls that lay in a neat triangle. The helpless keening sounds that dragged from her throat spurred him on and he licked and sucked before adding fingers to tongue and felt deep satisfaction when her spasms shook the bed.

Cameron gazed up at him solemnly through half-closed eyes as he ran his hands up and down her thighs.

“Nice and fuzzy,” he said suggestively, flicking a finger over her damp curls.

Cameron laughed and used his arms to pull herself upright. “You, on the other hand, are not very fuzzy.” She leaned over to the night table and opened the drawer, rummaging inside until she pulled out a square foil.

“Make yourself at home.”

“Oh, I’m going to.” She ripped it open delicately with her teeth and he swallowed, trying to get some saliva working in his mouth. The light in the foyer—damn, he should have turned it off, he should have—

Cameron pulled the blanket down, rolled the condom on him, and took him into her body so quickly that his brain went into a deep freeze. It took only a few thrusts and her body writhing above his. House was already on the edge, tense with lust, need, and fear that was dissolving into nothingness as the synapses in his brain fried into one major short-circuit. When he opened his eyes, the blanket was pulled up around his chest with a drowsy Cameron huddled into his shoulder, her leg draped over his good one.

“So, you didn’t quit.”

“Of course I quit.” He narrowed his eyes and she ran a finger along his jaw, unconcerned. “I’m not going to have people say that I got ahead by sleeping with my boss. You’ll just have to see me after hours.”

He smiled briefly, almost a grimace, as his body made an internal leap of—expectation? Joy?--while his brain wrapped around the idea that she wouldn’t be working with him anymore. His hand slid down and tightened on her hip. “Okay.” He breathed against her hair, knowing she’d be there when he woke up, signaling the continuation of their dance. New steps. Good steps.


End file.
